One Year ago...

One Year ago, our house was a LOT busier...

(Dec. 4th, 2010)

And it wasn't a bad thing...

(Dec. 4th, 2010)

I still feel like the girls are gone on a really long respite weekend.  I see these pics and automatically think of cuddles with my girls, and then feel the bewilderment of their absense.

(Dec. 6th, 2010)

Isn't it strange that it's taking so long for this new reality to sink in?  I know I find it easy to distract myself with Mira and Brodie.  But then, I find it hard to believe that Mira is one year older too!

(Dec. 5th, 2010)

I often feel like the past year didn't happen.  I keep saying, "Mira, it's your first snowfall" or "Mira, it's your first hockey game", and then realize that I'm wrong...last year did happen, and Mira was here for it.  Was I that busy, that I just can't bring the past year into my consciousness?  Or am I avoiding?!  Who knows.

I am finding it hard to write anything here, on the blog.  I am finding that grief is not a pretty thing to share.  It's not encouraging, or joyful, or hopeful.  It's not even that interesting, in my opinion.  I don't like to write about the fluctuating emotions, or about the energy it takes to be with people.  I still like to be with people, but it takes everything I've got, and then I need to recover and just be alone.  That's not what I'm used to, and I'm still learning how to balance on this teeter-totter of relief vs. grief. 

It's a very different time for us, and a lot of my remembering is not very positive.  I look at the pictures above and realize that we were preparing for our worst Christmas ever.  I didn't even know it was that bad at the time, I just dealt with it.  I find myself unwilling to sugar-coat anything anymore, so here it goes. 

When we left for Brandon (one of many family gatherings), we knew that Hope probably had pneumonia.  We left our home, knowing that she might not make it through the weekend.  We brought all our emergency meds, and the "Letter of anticipated death", which we would need so that we would not have to call the ambulance if Hope died at the hotel.  We drove the two and a half hours with disposable blue pads tucked around Hope, and the suction machine at the ready, so that we could help clear her secretions and puke before she choked on them.

We made it to the hotel, and as I sent Alex off to a hockey game, I told him we would manage just fine.  Then Ashley started puking.  It took a couple hours, but with my mom's help we got the 4 kids settled, cleaned up, meds given, and then I could feed the baby and go to sleep.

The next morning, I got up early because I was determined to have a better day.  After getting Mira and myself fed and dressed, I took my time with Ashley.  I enjoyed getting her dressed in her pretty outfit, settling her in her chair, and doing her hair.  Feeling positive and looking ahead to a nice breakfast in the hotel, I turned to Hope.  Then I heard it...the sound of vomitting.  I turned back to Ashley and saw that she had vomitted everywhere, and it wasn't stopping.  This was not a normal thing for Ashley, I just couldn't believe it.  Seriously, I was ready to give up and throw a tantrum.

Now, I probably shouldn't write anymore about it.  The weekend didn't get any better.  Ashley got pneumonia next, and Brodie took an iron gate in the face that weekend, which probably needed stitches, but I didn't have the energy to take him to emerg.  He still has a scar to remind me of that weekend.  But I don't care about a little scar.  I am sharing my hurt.  Because that weekend was a perfect example of how hard I tried to have a 'normal, fun' time, like everyone else...and how impossible it was. 

At one point, I gave up trying and just sat on the floor of that hotel room, nursing my baby, eating my slice of pizza...alone..., while my sick girls lay on the bed behind me.

I hate whining, and that's what it sounds like, doesn't it?  I am sitting here, staring at what I just wrote, knowing that it shows how much I hurt right now.  But do you see that?  Do you see that I am hurting because I realize that it was never possible.  I could never make my family function like other families.  I couldn't relax and visit like everyone else, what was I thinking!  I thought that I could work really hard, really fast and get up really early, so that I could get my kids ready all by myself, just like other parents.  Then go to breakfast, the whole family (NOT leave my girls behind yet again), and enjoy a meal out in a restaurant which never happened anymore because of how sick the girls had become. 

Why did I even go?  Because I wasn't ready to give up on life.  If I didn't get my family out there, in the real world, in real family activities and gatherings, then we would be alienated even more.

This isn't about the girls.  I love them still, and will praise God for their time in our lives, at every opportunity.  This is about me.  This is truth, that I have not shared very often.  This is the truth of my experience, at one moment of the journey.  As I write this I am crying, because it is hard to recognize some things.  Perhaps, I should have stopped trying so hard for someone else's 'normal' and just stayed home to enjoy our 'normal'.

That's what sucks about grief, you just keep rethinking and regretting.